


Too Good To Be Good For Me

by minyrrds



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: M/M, it's cute that's for sure, it's just cute and happy, well mostly, wow this was just such self indulgent fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 12:06:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6610108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minyrrds/pseuds/minyrrds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kisses and quiet moments that they're spared all to themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Good To Be Good For Me

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Je Reviens](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6238399) by [lazarusthefirst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazarusthefirst/pseuds/lazarusthefirst). 



> Well my poor heart read ["Je Reviens"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6238399) and ["Ask the Messenger"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6232315) back to back and instead of writing my paper I wrote this here u go
> 
> (Title from TOO GOOD by Troye Sivan)

“Why do you entirely lack a sense of self preservation, Josten.”

Neil’s grinning through the split lip dribbling blood down his chin. There’s a thin scrape running up the length of his thigh that stings with every step he takes and he can already tell there’ll be a black shadow surrounding his right eye when he wakes up tomorrow. He scrunches up his nose for the twentieth time since the hit to remind himself it’s not broken, just bleeding, and holds a hand to his bruised ribs as he reminds himself not to laugh too hard.

“Wouldn’t be fun any other way.”

Andrew’s hands find their way to the back of Neil’s neck and guide him through their suite to the bathroom. He pushes Neil down onto the closed toilet seat before running a small towel under warm water and pressing it to his bleeding lip.

There’s a curiously well-stocked first-aid kit that lives under their sink that Andrew takes out, setting it on the counter, and begins to methodically work his way through the various scrapes and bruises that Neil managed to attain during his last bout of boxing class with Matt (if he presses the alcohol wipe to the cut on Neil’s thigh for a few seconds longer than strictly necessary just to watch him wince a bit, well, that’s no one’s business but Andrew’s). His eyes soften a touch, just the barest amount, as he presses an ice pack to Neil’s eye, and Neil hisses through his teeth at the feeling.

“It was a lucky shot, Matt wouldn’t stop apologizing after.”

Andrew didn’t reply, just tugged on the bottom of Neil’s shirt in silent instruction for him to take it off so that he could examine his ribs. He takes the ice pack back, watching Neil struggle for a moment to take off his shirt without causing too much pain to his left side before Andrew becomes impatient with him and tugs it the rest of the way off with his free hand and mercilessly presses the ice pack to the obvious spot where the bruise is darkening.

“Ow.” Neil raises an eyebrow and appraises Andrew for a moment before scrubbing his face with his hands. His hair is dripping rivulets of water down his back from his post-practice shower and he keeps prodding the cut in his lip with his tongue, much to Andrew’s annoyance.

When he’s done, Neil’s slips to the bedroom to pick up Andrew’s box of cigarettes, shaking to make sure of the telltale weight of a lighter shifting around in the empty spaces in the pack. Andrew puts the first-aid kit back where it came from and follows Neil up the fire exit stairs to the roof. Neil passes Andrew the box and makes himself comfortable straddling the side of the ledge while Andrew leans back and presses himself against the side of the fire exit.

Andrew lights his cigarette and without thinking, Neil leans forward and lights his own on the end of Andrews before leaning back and watching the smoke curl up towards the sky in tendrils above his chest.

In the fading light, Andrew’s hair almost looks pink and Neil can convince himself that the scars on his arm wont be that bad when he takes his armbands off, and so he does. He examines his arms, turning them this way and that, as ash falls for the tip of his cigarette into little pools on his shirt. He runs his fingers across the row perfectly circular, scarred skin that climbs up from his wrist to the crook of his elbow, marveling for a moment at the precision before dropping his cigarette with a yelp onto his stomach and burning a small hole through his tshirt. Andrew’s hands are there before Neil can even yelp at the slight stick, one darting out to grab the smoldering cigarette and bring it to his lips, crowing the other one there already, and the other encircling Neil’s wrist.

He spits both cigarettes out and grinds them out beneath his heel and presses a careful kiss to the outside of Neil’s wrist before dropping it back onto his nest and walking away as if nothing had happened.

 

On the other side of the country, a sweet boy with a smile to mask his anxieties leans in to kiss a boy who is all hard muscle and angry lines.

Jean softens under Jeremy’s hands, letting himself feel the soft muscle that stretches across Jeremy’s back under the thin material of his shirt. The stunning brightness of the mid-afternoon sun filters in between the slats of the closed blinds in Jeremy’s apartment and catches on his soft brown lashes to turn them almost gold in the light. Jean pulls back and is momentarily stunned at the sight of it: face flushed, lips red, and delicately gold lashes pressed up against Jeremy’s high cheekbones. Jeremy cracks an eye open only a touch and tugs on one of the loose curls on the top of Jean’s head to get his attention back before smoothing his palm down the shaved sides. He cups Jean’s jaw before leaning in to kiss him again, marveling at the sheer dream-like quality of the moment.

A few months ago, there wouldn’t have been any _this_ there was just all short gestures and even shorter words. Harsh checks on the court as Jeremy struggled to prove to Jean that he wasn’t the enemy anymore; he was his friend. Tense silences in the locker room that followed angry scrapes on the court and more bruises molting on his body than Jeremy had seen since high school. Jean was no stranger to pain, that was obvious to anyone who looked at the scarred and intimidating striker. but it broke something inside of Jeremy to know he was the cause of some of the colors staining Jean’s pale skin now. He had danced around him for weeks until Jean had finally pinned him against the wall of the inner court and yelled at Jeremy to stop treating him like some fragile thing. That challenge was all Jeremy needed to go after Jean with everything he had, blowing his arms out in practice that night and nearly limping home from the soreness in his legs after that.

A week later they had won their first game as a team and Jeremy celebrated afterwards with a drunk kiss on Jean’s cheek before running away to throw up the entire contents of his stomach due to nerves. Jean had found him later, scrubbing his teeth for the fifth time and hiding from the rest of the team Alvarez’s small bathroom. Jean had cornered him against the sink and kissed him so soundly that Jeremy’s legs had almost given out underneath him.

“Stop thinking so loudly, Knox.” Jean mutters against his lips, and Jeremy just has to tip his head back and laugh.

“Make me.”

Jean just snorts and pushes Jeremy off his lap, which earns him a surprised yelp from his boyfriend, now tangled in a heap on the floor. “That wasn’t very nice,” Jeremy pouts, glaring at Jean with mock-hurt.

He holds out a hand, expecting Jean to help him up, and huffs when Jean walks right by him without pause. “And that was cheesy. I’m not responding to it.”

Jeremy manages to get himself standing and quietly pads up to Jean before pressing soft kisses up the length of his spine.  
“Come back?”

Jean relaxes under Jeremy’s kisses and turns around to scoop his boyfriend up into his arms and let Jeremy wrap his legs around Jean’s waist. They watch each other for a moment before Jeremy leans up and Jean bends his face down and then they’re kissing again, lost in everything but this sweet, sweet moment. A daze that wraps them up as Jeremy’s hands tangle in Jean’s hair and Jean’s hands curl possessively against Jeremy’s thighs, and there is nothing else in the world but this, only this, right in this very moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Drop by [on tumblr](http://tooruoikawa.co.vu) and say hi!


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